Robert Filos is an author of poetry and short stories that combine beauty with humor and wit, (and brutal truth sometimes) while highlighting social and world issues. He was born and raised in The Bronx, and now makes his home in the South Carolina Low-country with his wife and nine children. He can be reached at rfilos63@gmail.com

Treasure The Past

Dusty shoe box a child's treasure chestold letters and stamps things from the pastgrandpa's war medals a fragile pressed roseyellowed faded report card and a piece of twine

a gold watch band some scrapings of melted waxthe whiff of a musty old cigar one metal buttonthree cuff links none a pair lock of thin haira page from an old bible psalm twenty three

grandmas silver thimble a little blue bottledeck of cards from japan nineteen forty a spool of black thread pack of sewing needlespledge of allegiance on an old folded card

small yellowed envelopes with nothing insidea marble and several checker pieces all redsmall white ribbon silk with a pin a buffalo nickleAunt Marie's wedding band a negative of her grave

S&H green stamps business card from a pharmacya string with nine pearls old bus pass and transfersmall shells and glass beads and a straight razormore than a treasure box child holds the past

oaks live return glances toward uncivil grave stonesweathered to a smoothness engraving distant pastnarrow alleys posted with old ornate wrought gatesa century and a half of cobbled streets concealed

contrasted the battery retains the sea and its gunsbrown pelicans glide in a seashore symphony flightever present the dolphins join adding their melodiesland and seascapes on easels abounding artistry

old and young all sing the southern song of crabbingsandbars expose a treasure chest of spiral shellsbottling shark teeth and sand dollars a starfish prizelooking afar off as tides resume the ancient parade

while the color of flags and dignity both are attainedelders purchased misery of bonds in whole grainsglory in compassion and absolution dot their crownsjewels of the new south treasured neighbors uniting

brilliant periwinkles of salt stranded warmnow display seaweed coated family treesshadows of lost waves breaking echo ghostlyswimming in your darkness down and easterly

Tears Across My Page

Listening to hear my baby's footstepsanother morning, wind whistles the blueschickens scratching along the dirt roadon the run, rooster lifts his tail once more

Early morning sun, shining grey upon memind swirling, inside a spring dust devilcarried along the old barbed wire fencewhich once contained an acre of dreams

Rotted acorns under the live oak scatteredroots reaching up from the grave belowcorpses whose hands grasping to breathout past shadows cast of branches high

Apocalyptic landscape in a panorama sorrow and death beckoning to me silentlyand my pen as always, it just weeps softly absently, dripping tears across the page

A Reflected Smile

In the waterfalls reflectionsof blue and green and silversplashing an ancient palettecleanser of dryness tumblingfalling galaxy's of a star's dustin enjoyments it sprinkles mistrising again in pixies pinkish redmother's third daughter's smile